The Last Man Standing
by Zalein
Summary: Jak and Daxter talk while going through Haven's sewers. A One-shot, Jak and Dax interaction. No pairings.


_Author's Note: This takes place during the third game, probably after Jak's run around Haven for a bit and has returned to the Sewers. It's mostly a practice in getting their voices onto paper. : ) _

_Feedback and critique welcome. Enjoy!_

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"You know, Jak, there's this one little thing I never understood." Daxter leapt off his taller friend's shoulder, walking on his own. "Just one teensy weensy little detail, just one micro atom, just one... you get the ide--AAH!" Without warning Jak lunged in front of him, shooting a spray of bullets at a robot looming unexpectedly above their heads. Blue trails of gas traced the air the bullets had been through. Jak lowered his gun and watched both the streams and bullets disappear in the resulting explosion, taking a step back from the heat.

Once that was over, Jak turned around to see the ottsel waving at the smoke. "Bleah! Gagh! Ptooie! I'll tell you what, Jak, I'll be glad to get outta this joint! Even the _Wasteland_ smells better than this!"

"Yeah. It does." Said Jak, starting to walk again. Daxter had said the same thing in reverse about these sewers and some places in Spargus. Jak personally thought his current version was more accurate: the desert didn't have the city's filth. The air felt less restricted there; he liked it more.

"I mean, seriously!" Daxter walked up to the smoking pile of rubble Jak had left, rolling his eyes at it. "And here's another thing! All these _machines_ running around—they're everywhere! What can they possibly be doing with such a truckload of junk!" Daxter struck an impressive pose. "Besides throwing 'em all at me, I mean. You'd think they were emptying out all of Haven's bolt-buckets just to try and take us down! Daxter the Unbeatable… And Jak, the sidekick."

"… They might be." Said Jak. Seeing Daxter's surprised look he went on. "Throwing everything they have at us, I mean. We're that much trouble to them."

"Well I think that we've been breathing fumes a little too long. Come on, big fella, we gotta get outta these sewers." Daxter turned to him. The next second passed and there was a talking ottsel on Jak's shoulder.

The armed blonde started walking again, looking around for more robots. "I mean it. How many robots do you see when we've been one place too long? And how many robots are there when we're just on a zoomer passing through?"

"All that means, Jak, is that you and I—" Daxter pointed at himself and his friend, "are on everyone's most wanted list. And I mean everyone!" Jak glanced sidelong in time to see Daxter wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Right. And everyone—" he looked pointedly at Daxter, "must be sending death bots. And heat-sensing crawling bombs. And all those other 'nice little presents' we keep getting." Daxter opened his mouth to answer, but yelped instead as Jak swiveled around and sent another blue-trailing volley of bullets at a robot trying to sneak up on them.

"Geeze! You know, this would be a lot better if they'd send hot babes after us!" Jak didn't need to look to know Daxter's eyes were going distant and unfocused. "In fact, that'd make it all so much easier… They'd have skimpy little uniforms, and would jump around a lot…"

Jak paused and folded, giving Daxter a look that was both amused and disturbed. Daxter kept his vague grin for a few moments more before he noticed the stare. "What! You'd get to watch them all too, you know! And by 'them all', I don't mean—"

"Yeah, right." Jak smirked and switched his gun back to both arms. Before he started walking again he checked around a corner for more attack-bots. Then he frowned, looking serious. "… Actually... That might be why…"

"Might be why what, Jak-inator?" Daxter stretched to glance around the corner. Finding nothing, he quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "Did you finally figure something out?" His tone was light, but the sight of his friend's expression told him there was something wrong.

"I might have." Said Jak. "About why there are so many machines. And why they haven't sent actual people against us for a while."

"Well I know people had worse aim than these circuit-brains! That one back there almost got my tail." Daxter grabbed the offended member, glaring at a nonexistent singe.

"There aren't any left to throw at us."

"Come again?" asked Dax, looking up.

"There aren't enough people left to patrol. They're using bots now, because they can make more bots faster when one batch gets turned to slag."

Daxter bit back an inappropriate remark, realizing how seriously Jak was taking that statement. "… Well… I guess that just means how spectacular we are."

"And how many we've killed." Said Jak, looking at the gun in his hands. Dax glanced down and saw his knuckles were white from gripping so hard. That wasn't good.

"Hey, hey! If we've killed a lot of them…" Daxter's petulant tone trailed off as Jak shot him a warning look. Daxter folded his skinny arms and scowled right back. "Well, then we have. But you can't say we go around looking for it! Oh, _sure_, we go around for the explosions and races, but _they_ started the whole fighting and killing crap!"

Jak started walking again, and Daxter darted to the other shoulder to put himself in Jak's line of vision. "I mean it! It's not like you volunteered for that crazy dark eco zapping—_they_ grabbed you for it, and now they're—"

"So—" Jak interrupted, looking down at his gun. "—every time I fire this it's somehow their own fault?" Daxter darted onto the gun, folding his arms and looking up at him. Jak looked haunted. He was also scowling. Daxter held his gaze and let his returning glare be his only answer as a silence grew between them.

Jak was the first one to look away, glancing around without really seeing anything. Daxter unfolded his arms as his own glare started to fade. He climbed back to Jak's shoulder-armor, letting the mostly-human check the gun over for anything wrong.

"I don't know, Jak. You're right about one thing: everything's screwed up." Daxter moved to the side that was less likely to have a gun braced against it. "But this mess was already here when we got here. We're in it, now, and we've gotta get ourselves out."

Jak was quiet a little longer, before returning the gun to its at-ready position. "… Yeah."

It wasn't much, and Jak's eyes were shadowed. Dax tried a grin anyway and pounded his friend's shoulder lightly. Jak caught the movement in the corner of his eyes, and when he shared a shadow of his friend's grin he nodded. It wasn't a nice grin. "You're right. The Baron started this all. We finished it then… and if it comes to it, we'll finish it again."

"Yeah! You bet your ass we will! Bring it on, baby—the Demolition duo are in town!"

Dax knew it was all he'd get for now, and he'd take it. He knew Jak: after the big guy had thought it over on his own he'd be much better, even if it did take a few hours. Or days. Oh _precursors_ don't let it be longer than that—a brooding Jak had a shorter temper than usual, and with having to live on his shoulder and all, that wasn't a safe position for Daxter.

With a challenge-crowing ottsel still attached to one shoulder, Jak broke into an easy jog and disappeared into the Sewers' network of dim tunnels. A few moments later there was the sound of another spray of bullets, another small explosion, and two cheers—one shouted, the other quieter—before they all faded into the tunnel's original quiet.

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End file.
